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The Importance of Lived Experience in Making Change
***There is a content warning for this post as it briefly mentions self-harm***
I am a mature student entering the 3rd year of my degree, joint honours psychology and criminology. My choice in academic study (and hopeful career path) is largely informed by my own life experiences which have and will continue to be one of my biggest strengths. I have been in mental health services as a patient since my pre-teens and I have worked in a variety of mental health settings including inpatient forensic mental health and rehabilitation. My criminological interest was piqued after being a victim to violent crimes as an adult. All of this, as well as some conversations I have had with lecturers and peers over the last 2 years, has me thinking about the influence and importance of lived experiences in our academic and career choices, and the opportunities that lived experiences create for making change and battling adversity.
When we experience anything in life, big or small, positive or negative, we can gain incredible insight about ourselves and the world around us in a way that we would never have done if we didn’t have those experiences. It can change or set the trajectory of our lives. When we are in the correct place in our lives, our recovery, our minds to be able to pour from a cup that isn’t empty, we can find ourselves in an amazing place where we can help others and inspire change for those who have experienced or are likely to experience what we have. Perhaps even the ones who never have and never will. All equally as important.
Every system, service, or organisation needs to have the input from those who have experienced it from the other side. We need to know how the work is being perceived at the other end. It can be really difficult to collate feedback, especially the positive stuff, or see end-to-end results and we find that if no-one speaks up, what will be done is the easy thing, the cheap thing, or the well-intentioned but mismatched thing. Of course, we may be able to go beyond advice and become a part of a service or a voice ourselves and ‘be the change.’ We can inspire change by instilling more trust in others that we truly understand their predicament and that we have moved or are moving through it, showing them that it is possible or that they’re not alone. It can be refreshing and a huge learning experience for others in the service, as a user or provider, who may be stuck, going through the motions unequipped with knowledge of how to make change for the better, especially in sectors that can be particularly challenging day-to-day.
If I may give a personal example from when I worked on a psychiatric ward for forensic rehabilitation. I worked with many patients who felt as though it was staff vs patients, that we couldn’t possibly know what it was like for them, that we were only there because we were paid, and because they were detained against their will, we had to keep them there. I didn’t hide my personal experiences, my real reasons for being there, but no one really asked so I didn’t shout about them either. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, for reasons of infection control, I had no choice but to obey a rule, ‘‘bare-below-the-elbow.’’ That meant I had to wear short sleeves on the ward. It meant revealing to my patients the scars I bear from self-harm. This prompted lots of questions, some less awkward than others, but it opened up so many wonderful conversations and breakthroughs. I spoke with my patients about knowing how that feels, that I’ve been on the medication they’re struggling with, and I’ve done the therapy they’re reluctant to try. It connected me to my patients and my work in such a wonderful way and meant my patients trusted me more, trusted the process more and engaged in ways they haven’t before. It meant that when decisions were made about patient care or ward processes, I could advocate from a place of empathy and understanding and in cases where people have their rights reduced or taken away, detained against their will, are vulnerable, are disadvantaged, we can’t do it enough.
Being loud about our experiences means raising awareness, breaking down stigma and stereotypes to create more inclusive and accepting societies, building supportive communities, and helping people along their path. It can serve as inspiration for people who may never have even given a thought to their experiences, things they witness or people who experience hardship and keep it under wraps.
Perhaps this even serves as a little nudge to be open to the experiences of others, to recognise and challenge your own biases, the things you may or may not understand. If you find yourself in a position to decide who to hire, interact with, which project to run; find the lived experience, consider the people who just need a little more support and feel like a little risk, because you never know what it could do. We can apply this to healthcare, criminology, charity, or anything that feels like it is our calling.
It can be such a tough and slow process, it won’t always be welcomed, it might not always work out. There may be people, services and societal norms or stigma that have an agenda or goals that don’t align with yours, not everybody likes change or will be willing to put in the effort. We may not always get the answers we are looking for because of the complex world we live in. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right?
Come Together
For much of the year, the campus is busy. Full of people, movement and voice. But now, it is quiet… the term is over, the marking almost complete and students and staff are taking much needed breaks. After next week’s graduations, it will be even quieter. For those still working and/or studying, the campus is a very different place.
This time of year is traditionally a time of reflection. Weighing up what went well, what could have gone better and what was a disaster. This year is no different, although the move to a new campus understandably features heavily. Some of the reflection is personal, some professional, some academic and in many ways, it is difficult to differentiate between the three. After all, each aspect is an intrinsic part of my identity.
Over the year I have met lots of new people, both inside and outside the university. I have spent many hours in classrooms discussing all sorts of different criminological ideas, social problems and potential solutions, trying always to keep an open mind, to encourage academic discourse and avoid closing down conversation. I have spent hour upon hour reading student submissions, thinking how best to write feedback in a way that makes sense to the reader, that is critical, constructive and encouraging, but couched in such a way that the recipient is not left crushed. I listened to individuals talking about their personal and academic worries, concerns and challenges. In addition, I have spent days dealing with suspected academic misconduct and disciplinary hearings.
In all of these different activities I constantly attempt to allow space for everyone’s view to be heard, always with a focus on the individual, their dignity, human rights and social justice. After more than a decade in academia (and even more decades on earth!) it is clear to me that as humans we don’t make life easy for ourselves or others. The intense individual and societal challenges many of us face on an ongoing basis are too often brushed aside as unimportant or irrelevant. In this way, profound issues such as mental and/or physical ill health, social deprivation, racism, misogyny, disablism, homophobia, ageism and many others, are simply swept aside, as inconsequential, to the matters at hand.
Despite long standing attempts by politicians, the media and other commentators to present these serious and damaging challenges as individual failings, it is evident that structural and institutional forces are at play. When social problems are continually presented as poor management and failure on the part of individuals, blame soon follows and people turn on each other. Here’s some examples:
Q. “You can’t get a job?”
A “You must be lazy?”
Q. “You’ve got a job but can’t afford to feed your family?
A. “You must be a poor parent who wastes money”
Q. “You’ve been excluded from school?”
A. “You need to learn how to behave?”
Q. “You can’t find a job or housing since you came out of prison?”
A. “You should have thought of that before you did the crime”
Each of these questions and answers sees individuals as the problem. There is no acknowledgement that in twenty-first century Britain, there is clear evidence that even those with jobs may struggle to pay their rent and feed their families. That those who are looking for work may struggle with the forces of racism, sexism, disablism and so on. That the reasons for criminality are complex and multi-faceted, but it is much easier to parrot the line “you’ve done the crime, now do the time” than try and resolve them.
This entry has been rather rambling, but my concluding thought is, if we want to make better society for all, then we have to work together on these immense social problems. Rather than focus on blame, time to focus on collective solutions.
Who cares what I think?
The other week, I went for a meal with a friend. The food was lovely, the staff and environment welcoming and friendly and company, fabulous. A couple of days later I was thinking about that evening and I wondered why I had not felt the need to write some positive feedback on google, or similar. The answer was because I felt that I and my dining companion, had expressed our pleasure both in word and deed (the plates were clean!). Thus, the relationship between diners and restaurant staff had been overwhelmingly positive and this had been expressed by both.
However, wherever we go nowadays, we are regularly confronted by requests for feedback; “how is my driving?”, “did you enjoy your meal?” “would you recommend our services to others”? Often these questions are accompanied by Likert scales, so we can record our opinion on almost everything. Sometimes we might take some time to consider the options, other times we might just tick random boxes, more usually (if I’m anything to go by) I just don’t engage with such requests. Despite their often-jolly appearance, these questions are not harmless, they have an impact, most usually to measure individuals’ performances.
Whether we engage with such requests or not, we do not question whether we are well-placed to judge. So, for instance, as a driver of probably one of the smallest cars on the market (that’s me!), I’m expected to be able to mark the driver of a lorry. Or someone, who has the cooking know-how of a small child (I speak for myself again!) is expected to form an opinion on a dish prepared by a trained chef, these questions are hardly fair. More importantly, my answers are meaningless; whilst I might respond “the lorry appeared to take the corner a bit wide”, I have neither knowledge or understanding of the turning circle of a 32-tonne lorry. Similarly, my thoughts about the heat of a Bangladeshi biryani or the sweetness of a mille-feuille is neither here nor there. Given I can neither drive a lorry nor cook these wonderful dishes, who am I to voice an opinion?
Of course, there are times when it is necessary to voice an opinion, the lorry driver is behaving in a dangerous manner liable to cause an accident, or the restaurant is serving rancid or rotten food; both scenarios likely to involve serious harm. However, these concerns would need to be raised immediately, either by alerting the police (in the case of the lorry) or the management of the restaurant. In the case of the latter, you may also feel it necessary to contact environmental health if you felt that your complaint had not been addressed or you had concerns about the hygiene of the restaurant in general. However, these types of problems are largely outside the feedback requested.
In many of the scenarios/environments we are asked to comment on, we are in a relationship with the other party. Take the restaurant; if I am friendly and polite to the staff, I can expect a reciprocal relationship. If I am rude and aggressive, is it any wonder staff behave in a different way. They are constrained by their professions to focus on customer service, but this should not lay them open to abuse. Whilst the old adage “the customer is always right” might be an excellent baseline, it is not possible for this always to be the case. As someone who has spent a previous lifetime working in retail, sometimes the customer can be obtuse, rude or even downright, ignorant and abusive. Adherence to such an adage, at all costs, can only open the way for abuse.
But what about those feedback forms? On a bad day, in a rash moment, or because I’m bored, I decide to complete one of these forms. The waiter kept me waiting, the food was too spicy, I didn’t like the feedback I was given on my job application, my essay was critiqued, my teeth haven’t been flossed regularly, I didn’t like the book recommended to me by the librarian or the book seller, I can’t believe my line manager has turned down my application for annual leave. I can easily demonstrate my unhappiness with the situation with a few judiciously placed ticks, circles or smiley/sad faces. Can I say the waiter, the chef, the HR professional, the lecturer, the dentist, the librarian, the book seller and my line manager are performing poorly? Can I say they are unprofessional, unprepared, untrained, lacking in knowledge or skills or just plain wrong? And if I do, is that fair or just? Furthermore, am I happy to be subject to the same judgement from people who do not share my experiences; professional or otherwise? Remember too much of this bad feedback, however flippant and lacking in evidence it may be, may lead to disciplinary action, including dismissal.
There is an oft-cited, albeit crude, truth: “Opinions are like arseholes; everyone has one”! Ultimately, whether we choose to share (either) in public is up to us! Think carefully before ticking those boxes and encourage others to do the same. Who knows, someone may well be ticking boxes about you!